Julian Raul Kucklich responds

Julian Raul Kucklich responds

Julian Raul Kucklich points out the virtues of interdisciplinarity cooperation for ludologists.

Markku Eskelinen’s essay begins with an introduction to ludology and narratology that follows Espen Aarseth’s line of reasoning in representing it as a “colonization” of the virgin territory of computer game studies by the invading force of narrative theory. I have frequently taken issue with this framing of the debate, since it implicitly asserts ludology’s ‘natural right’ to the area of digital games.

The ‘othering’ of narratology by ludologist scholars has been brilliantly analyzed by Marinka Copier in her article “The Other Game Researcher” (in: Level Up, ed. Marinka Copier and Joost Raessens, pp. 404-419), in which she argues that

“by using the negative spatial metaphor of colonizing a boundary between ludology and other disciplines is constructed” (407), which leads her to the conclusion that “the construction of boundaries between game studies and other disciplines/fields combine two sets of arguments: content and definition of the object (games are games) [and] institutional (wanting to have a discipline of one’s own and resistance to other disciplines […])” (408).

When we take a closer look at these two arguments, problematic issues begin to arise:

1) The definition of games `as games’ is not only tautological and simplistic, it is also surprisingly naïve. Research as a cultural practice has always relied on regarding its objects of study as something else. Regarding matter as an accumulation of atoms, or organisms as an accumulation of cells are, after all, only metaphors that allow us to understand complex structures such as hydrochloric acid or octopi. In the humanities, the application of one set of metaphors to a related, but different, field, has led to fascinating insights into previously marginalized cultural practices.

For example, the application of models developed in film studies to television, and their subsequent modification, have led to the establishment of television studies as a distinct (but by no means `independent’) discipline. The simplistic assumption that television is just film on a small screen is simply not viable in the long run, so existing paradigms had to be adapted to the ‘new’ field of study, leading to the establishment of a whole new set of metaphors.

The problematic assumption underlying this ‘naïve’ approach is the implicit claim that this strategy allows ludology to speak from a position within the area of games, rather than a position external to it (which is then ascribed to other disciplines). However, this is simply not the case. Ludology is in the same position as any other discipline in regard to digital games, and their attempts to claim a ‘natural right’ to this territory can be regarded as equally imperialist as other disciplines’ forays into this area.

2) Ludology’s (admittedly understandable) wish to establish a ‘discipline of one’s own,’ is, from my point of view, remarkably out of touch with the reality of academic politics today. In an age of disciplinary convergence, in which the setup of multidisciplinary teams and interdisciplinary research projects is one of the highest priorities on the academic agenda, ludology’s separatist tendencies may be actually harmful to the long-term existence of digital game studies.

Only if ludology decides to overcome its reluctance to interdisciplinary cooperation - and opens its eyes to the fact that they are in no better position to approach computer games than an other discipline or school - can I see game studies establish itself as a discipline in the near future.

After this long tangent, let us return to Markku’s essay. Not only does Markku frame his presentation of the ludology-narratology debate as a narrative of colonization and resistance, he goes one step further by stating: “resisting and beating [the already organized scholarly tribes] is the goal of our first survival game in this paper” (36).

Speaking from the perspective of a literary scholar, I can only say that the immigration of terminology and theoretical concepts from other disciplines is the best thing that ever happened to literary studies. Where would we be, after all, without the models of sociology, psychoanalysis, various schools of philosophical thought from Marxism to deconstructivism, not to mention communication and media studies, semiotics, gender studies, cognitive science, postcolonial studies etc. etc.?

The field of game studies is now large enough to welcome these migrants from other theoretical discourses to its own area. Clearly, this process of integration will not be an easy one; it will require tolerance, diplomacy and patience. However, Markku’s attempt to “use the theories of colonizers against themselves” (36) runs counter to such an integrative strategy as it pours gasoline into the embers of the fiery debate between narratologists and ludologists. Not that we need less debate, we need more of it. But we need to cool down and start debating in a reasonable manner.

The irony of Markku’s article lies the fact that in his zeal to rid himself of imaginary colonizers, he has become a colonizer himself. This becomes obvious when he claims that it “should be self-evident that we can’t apply print narratology […] directly to computer games” (36) or when he brushes aside decades of audience research by stating that we can “distinguish the static user positions of literature, film and average drama from the dynamic one of games […]” (38).

If game studies is to become dominated by a sectarian tribe of ludologists for whom everything is “self-evident”, and in which the words of Espen Aarseth (“the current massively multiplayer online game may very well be the most significant change in audience structure since the invention of the choir”, quoted in Eskelinen, 38) weighs more than that of generations of audience researchers, I certainly don’t want any part of it. But I think there is still hope for a constructive debate between the formalists of the Copenhagen school and the non-conformists from the “already organized scholarly tribes.”